The B Word
by BecomeOneWithMotherRussiaDa
Summary: Our favourite British boy is back, and this time he's HAD it (AKA the Brexit fic no one wanted or asked for) *CRACKFIC*


So. It's been almost six years since anything was published on this account, and yet here I am again, back at it with the crackfics.

Ya don't have to have read the other fics to understand this one, but it might help to understand the family dynamic.

Bless up America's Lover for being my personal hype man and the inspiration for this.

It's dedicated to you pal, enjoy.

"If I hear one more gosh darn thing about the B word, you'll catch me flossing on Hadrians Wall as we physically saw ourselves away from this hellscape. I've had it up to my GOD DAMN DICK hearing about Brexit. Brexit this, Brexit that, Brexit I don't give a shit anymore. Gonna Brexit this life if I hear the B word one more time in this Christian household" I scream out to nobody in particular. I've HAD IT. I normally wouldn't give a shit, expect, only Arthur wanted to leave, and because Captain Fivebrows of the HMS Bullshit wanted it, we all have to suffer.

"We don't like it either, Robert, we've all gotta suck it up and deal with it." David responded, scrolling through Welsh memes on his phone, whatever the fuck that means. He's sent me a couple in the past but they aren't funny so what the heck. He and Estonia crack the fuck up in world meetings at Davey's dog shit memes, yet not laugh at the supreme bants that I give out. Fuckin of the highest order.

Ever the helpful advice, sweet David. Just sit and deal with the nightmare. Content as you may be to sit in the lush Welsh valleys doing shite all but counting sheep and watching old Gavin and Stacey episodes on repeat, I'm getting cabin fever.

Everything is fucking boring now. None of the MPs are fun anymore, they're all dealing with

Brexit or resigning from their jobs. I miss the days when I could text David (Cameron, not that

I'm a name dropper) and we'd gather Nick and Ed, have a proper right good fucking sesh in a Wetherspoons, then be home in time to watch them do Prime Minister's Questions, too pissed to speak straight.

Not to mention the Royal Family. Ever since Haz got married, he's got no time for me. And fucking Phillip yeeted his Range Rover across a road the other day, so he's not allowed to play out either until he can behave properly behind the wheel of a car. All I did was dare him to flip it, and instead all that was flipped was Liz's shit.

The Squad Group Chat is my only solace in this cold, cold world. _United Gaytions_ , consisting of Yours Truly, Prussia, France, Hungary, Denmark, and Poland. Yes, the squad is iconic, and no, you can't join. What began as a way to communicate during long arse World Meetings has developed into a beautiful group chat, making the meetings infinitely more fun (especially after that cock up that left me and Gil at the kids table, bc don't think I forgot that little gem ARTIE).

"Has anyone seen Arthur? It's been days and I'm concerned he might actually be dead", Oh Trevo. He's not dead. Just stupid.

"He's in his office I think, Parliament is a bloodbath right now and he's trying to figure everything out." The MPs are at each other's throats so much, the next election might as well be renamed the First Annual Parliamentary Hunger Games and have the scrap be televised. Just raw footage of Rees-Mogg getting absolutely twatted by literally anyone who isn't a melt.

"ARTHUR GET YOUR ARSE OUT HERE, OR ARE YOU TOO BUSY TRYING TO SORT THE

SHITSHOW THAT IS LONDON OUT. TREVO IS TWO SECONDS AWAY FROM SENDING A

SEARCH PARTY OUT BECAUSE HE THINKS YOU'RE DEAD." I scream, banging the beat to God Save the Queen on his door. More lile God Savd the Meme, am I right? I might write that down somewhere,in big bold bright letters. Hehe, that'll show him.

"ROBERT I TOLD YOU TO STOP CALLING ME THAT. YOU VOTED AND YOU LOST! IT ISN'T MY FAULT THAT YOUR PEOPLE DIDN'T WANT INDEPENDENCE FROM ENGLAND.

LONDON IS THE POWERHOUSE OF THE UNITED KINGDOM, THE MESS NEEDS FIXING"

ExCUSE ME, fuck this. I'm going out. Who the fuck uses hence in an argument anyway. It's the 21st Century Shakespeare, take the thesaurus out of your arse and get a grip.

"And then Gil, he brought up my independence again. Acting like he doesn't think London is the centre of the God Damn World. Should call his fuckin dick London because it's smaller and less important than he thinks it is."

"Robert, my good man, it sounds like you need to go crazy, Prussian style. Down your pint sweet darling, and let's get so drunk we're dying for a week."

"That's just how you live your life pal, but sure. We haven't had a real night out in what feels like 6 years. I'm down. Let's get the gang together and wreck this shit UP." I tell the last word, necking my pint before ordering a round of 14 Jagerbombs for the two of us. Best not to start off too crazy.

 _ **UNITED GAYTIONS**_

 _ **Mary, Queen of Thots**_ : _Guys, Gals, and everyone else, we're getting the squad together for a night of drinking and debauchery. London's calling motherfuckers, y'all better answer it._

 _ **Hamlet, the Whiniest Dane:**_ _I'll be over ASAP!_

 _ **HOland:**_ _Just let me get ready! I'll be, like, as fast as I can bois_

 _ **Hi Hungary, I'm Dad:**_

 _ **Liberté, Egalité, Beyoncé:**_ _Oui oui! I shall be there in deux heure!_

 _ **Frederich can Suck My FrederDICK:**_ _It's Messy o'Clock friends and it's gonna b_ 💯💯💯

With the squad finally summoned, Gil and I divide the jagers and pound them down like they're going out of style. The fuckin gang is getting back together. Look out London, your wig is about to get fucking SNATCHED. The pubs are deceased, my liver is quaking.

"To friendship Robert!" Prussia toasts, blinking his glass against mine.

"To drinking!"

"To merriment!"

"To our total and utter lack of self control!"

That's the fucking squad motto right there.


End file.
